Feb 24th: Group Walk

We start out climbing a dirt road that leads to a deserted village: it seems few youngsters want the arduous life of a peasant farmer. As expected, there is general decay, but some of the house fronts have fallen out, and one of the walkers, who lives here, said this would be due to earth tremors. Shades of the 1755 earthquake that destroyed much of Portugal!


Now we see the incredible concrete man, alias Terry, who has climbed the survey pillar at the highest point of our walk. This is where we eat our packed lunch.







On the way down from the hill, an energetic barking dog leapt out from a house beside the path and barred our way. We probably weren’t much at risk and, anyway, the owner swiftly appeared and grabbed the dog. I took a quick snap. Looking at this in more detail later, it appears that we were in more danger from being bitten by the owner than by the dog!

We pass through more orange groves and finally arrive at a village café-cum-grocery store where we order coffee, and sit outside on the wall as the café doesn’t have sufficient chairs for 13 walkers. All the while we are kept under surveillance by some locals in traditional (it would be nice to think) dress.


That’s us, on the wall, at the end of our 9 mile hike.

Feb 20th: Farragudo

In between showers we take a trip along the coast to Ferragudo, originally a fishing village, and walk from there.
There are still some fishermen around as evidenced by the jumble of fishermen’s huts showing signs of occupation. There were also stacks of lobster pots on the quay we had just walked past. The rest of the town is devoted to tourism.




But we quickly get to some small pretty bays and enjoy the sheltered sunshine.
Just after taking the photo, the surf rushed in and soaked Jane’s trousers.




We nearly manage to get back before a sharp shower, but there followed an interesting mixture of clouds and sunshine, resulting in an unusual picture.

Feb 17th to 19th

Camping Albufeira is a large site, part of which is block-booked each year by the Camping and Caravanning Club of the UK to hold a rally. As members of the club, we booked our pitch through them to get the discounted site fees. We’ve never been on a rally before, but know all about them through the Club magazine: lots of social events like line dancing, quiz nights, bingo, whist drives, walks etc. Well, we are keen on the walking. Checking in with the rally steward, he said, “There’s lots of activities, but no pressure.” We breathe a sigh of relief. He continues, “But unless all members support these functions we’ll lose the use of the hall.” Gulp.


The weather is mild but unsettled. Long-stay rallyists tell us it’s been raining since December. If your pitch becomes waterlogged, the campsite has a rapid response gravel service. A lorry appears and two men Feb 17th to 19th furiously shovel gravel onto your pitch and then rake it into the mud and puddles. We requested this facility on day 2 and were impressed by its’ efficiency. The Portuguese are clearly less mañana than the Spanish. You can see all our lovely effective gravel on the photo, and how our pitch would be un–gravelled by looking at the vacant plot adjacent. It is water, about 6 inches deep

Feb 15th & 16th: from Merida to Albufeira

We arrive at Merida on Sunday night, Feb 14th, and will stay an extra day here. Merida is a pleasant town with a big Roman history. The photo shows a Roman bridge 720 metres long in excellent condition. The biggest threat to the survival of Roman structures wasn’t decay, but the pirating of the beautifully trimmed stones to be reused in other building work.

The Moorish fort in the town is an example of this, built entirely of “re-cycled” Roman building blocks. The bridge itself was preserved intact presumably because it continued to be needed to cross the river.

This is the bullring, built in the Moorish style. It looks like most people’s nightmare of a package holiday hotel.
Merida to Albufeira is around 5 hours drive and, after about half way, warmish and sunny (18 degrees). We arrive late afternoon and book in to the site.

Feb 2010 Going To Blogging Portugal!

Feb 10th to Feb 14th

We left home in light snow and a bitter wind. Through the tunnel and into France it was the same. Usually French Aires (the picnic areas) look good enough to spend your whole holiday in, but the weather changes one’s perceptions, as the photo shows, and the functional toilet block takes on the appearance of a Russian H-bomb shelter.


So on to Arcachon, just south of Bordeaux, where we stayed for a couple of days. Arcachon overlooks a large lagoon famous for its farmed oysters. The must-see visit here is what the French claim is the highest sand dune in Europe. We climbed it, puffing and panting, and were rewarded with an impressive view from the top even on such a grey (and bitterly cold) day. However, all Welshmen believe that the dunes at Merthyr Mawr, near Bridgend in South Wales, are higher. Clearly, only a game of rugby between the two countries can ultimately settle this dispute.
Driving the short distance from the dune back to the campsite, an oncoming car impacted with one of the towing mirrors. These project an extra foot beyond the normal mirror so you can see around the caravan when towing. They should be removed when you’re not towing, but hey, we’re only here for a day, so I didn’t bother. A salutory lesson! But apart from a loud bang and the total disintegration of the mirror, no other damage was done- and the other vehicle didn’t even stop.


Saturday 13th saw us crossing into Spain near Biarritz, with more sprinklings of snow and biting winds. Lots of snow on the Pyrenees and other mountains as we proceed inland, all very picturesque.





Sunday, today: stopping for coffee at a roadside café, I noticed a rack labelled “gifts”. It was composed entirely of catapults! Do let us know if there’s any nice little lad you want to send a little prezzie to: anything to get his head out of the computer.

By early afternoon we passed around Salamanca, continually heading south, although you’d hardly believe it because at no time since we started from England has the temperature risen above 3 degrees.